“Fun? We can’t finish a relay race here without couples heading for the woods.” What fun was a race if no one won?
At Camp Blossom, the staff were encouraged to look the other way if Aryan couples paired off. If a pregnancy resulted, the mother was sent to a luxurious SS spa-clinic, and the birth of a healthy child was celebrated, no matter if the mother was married. All this focus on children was understandable, of course, since the future of Germany depended on populating our country. But with my sights set on becoming a physician, I could not afford a pregnancy. I slid a pair of scissors from one of the metal cans and secreted them in my shorts pocket.
Pippi’s eyes widened. “Ever done it yourself?” she asked in a casual voice.
“It hurts, you know. And no matter what they say, if you have a baby, you’ll be sent out of the BDM, shipped off to Wernigerode. The middle of nowhere.”
Pippi pulled a stack of postcards from her shorts pocket. They featured views of Die Mutter-hauser des Lebensborns, a stately chalet. One showed a nurse tending to a ruffled bassinet on a tree-lined terrace under the SS flag.
“They say it’s like being on holiday—the best of everything. Meat. Real butter—”
“Maybe, but the father will not be involved. Once the child is born, they take it away to be raised by strangers.”
“You throw a wet blanket on everything, Herta,” she said, fanning herself with the cards.
Once the boys finished fiddling with the boat, they stood, hands in pockets. I tried to stall, waiting for them to leave, but eventually we had to go.
Side by side, Pippi and I started down the path to our cabin. We turned, saw the boys following us, quickening their pace, and Pippi bit her lip into a smile.
“Hurry,” I said, pulling Pippi by the arm.
The boys picked up speed and Pippi and I took off toward the woods. I left the path and crashed through low brush and briers while Pippi, an accomplished sprinter, lagged behind. As I ran, the sting of the scissors’ point stabbed my leg. Why did this make me feel so oddly alive?
I ran around to the far side of an abandoned cabin next to a rushing stream and crouched on the mossy bank. Catching my breath, I set my scissors down and examined the wound on my thigh. It was a surface wound but had produced a startling amount of blood. Despite the sound of the rushing water, I heard the boys nab Pippi.
“You run so fast,” she said, laughing. The three clambered into the cabin, and I brushed away the jealousy I felt. What would it be like to kiss such a good-looking boy? Did I need to tell my supervisor if Pippi succumbed?
“What a good kisser you are,” I heard Pippi say.
I heard the creak of the bedsprings, more giggling from Pippi, and then moans from one boy. Where was the other one? Watching?
Pippi put up embarrassingly little resistance, and I heard them breathing hard and loud. How could she?
“You can’t keep your clothes on,” one boy said.
“It’s so dirty in here,” Pippi said.
I crouched there motionless, for any move would reveal my position. Pippi seemed to be enjoying it all, but then she had a change of heart.
“No, please,” she said. “I need to get back—”
“It’s not fair to get this far—”
“You’re hurting me,” she cried. “Herta!”
Friends help each other, but I’d warned her. Why hadn’t she listened? Her lack of discipline was a weakness.
“Help!” Pippi cried. “Someone, please—”
Aiding her would only endanger me, but I couldn’t leave her in that situation. I took up the scissors, cold and heavy, and stole to the rotted cabin steps in the almost darkness.
The screen door lay on the ground, off its hinges, so the doorway provided a good view. There were many rusted metal beds in there standing on end, and Pippi lay on the only horizontal one. It had collapsed, the mattress ticking stained and torn. One of the boys was lying on top of her, his ass blue-white in the dark room, smooth and hard and pumping as she cried. The second boy, the dark-haired one, stood at the head of the bed pinning Pippi’s shoulders.
I stepped over gaps from missing floorboards into the cabin.
“Stop it,” I said.
The second boy lit up when he saw me, perhaps hoping for a chance himself. I brandished the scissors,